


Just Like in the Movies

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, also big hero 6 spoilers just saying, and moriyama finally gets lucky, kasamatsu gets violent when he's flustered, kise's an ugly crier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise liked to cry in empty movie theatres at 12 in the morning, and Kasamatsu was the unlucky employee who took the brunt of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like in the Movies

The life of Kasamatsu Yukio was one of predictability and routine, rotating between morning coffee, afternoon lectures, and evening box office sales. He’s always been a simple guy; favouring the quiet strum of a guitar over the blast of party music, or even the rush of a basketball game over the thrill of a relationship. Excitement never seemed to fall into his life, but then again, not once was he ever inclined to pursue it.

It was only when Kasamatsu covered an evening clean-up shift for a co-worker did he manage to get a small taste of ‘excitement’. Although if encountering a blonde sobbing mess in the middle of an empty movie theatre was considered exciting, then he would much rather stick to his mundane life.

“You, uh, have to leave,” said Kasamatsu, hesitating a bit at the sight. He had just arrived at the man’s seat from the shadows of theatre 11’s entryway, prepared to tell him off. Now, as he took in the stranger’s curled up, trembling body, he felt that determination trickle away into uncertainty.

It wasn’t that Kasamatsu didn’t know how to manage situations; there were just two things he wasn’t quite good at handling. The first was talking to girls, and the second was, well, comforting people— _especially_ crying strangers.

“Please leave.” Kasamatsu cleared his throat. “Preferably now. It’s theatre policy.”

There was a silence. If he didn’t include the congested wheezing, that is.

“Look,” Kasamatsu sighed, suppressing his irritation. He felt ridiculous talking to an unresponsive sobbing person in an empty theatre, and he cursed Moriyama for missing his shift. “Whatever the movie was about, I’m sure it was sad, but I really just want to go home.”

An incoherent string of noises escaped the blonde’s mouth.

“Speak up,” snapped Kasamatsu.

He finally lifted his head, and Kasamatsu faltered. Golden eyes were bloodshot and puffy, red nose running with snot, and flushed cheeks covered in tears—it wasn’t a pretty sight. “B-Baymax wanted to go home too,” he muttered in a small, broken voice.

Kasamatsu was struck dumb.

“All it wanted was to go home with Hiro, but instead i-it—” He paused, sniffling, and then choked out, “— _sacrificed_ itself.”

“Um,” said Kasamatsu, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry, I guess…? Amax—”

“—Baymax—”

“Right,” Kasamatsu coughed. “ _Baymax_ must have, uh, been a hero.”

The blonde made a strangled noise, his face screwing up, and Kasamatsu recognized the beginnings of another wave of tears. Feeling panic rise in his chest, he did the first thing that came to mind.

“Baymax wouldn’t want you to be sad,” Kasamatsu blurted, impulsively grabbing the other’s hand. “It died to let Hiro live on happily, so it would want you to be _overjoyed_.” He tightened his fist around the other's to punctuate his statement. “Get up, hold your head high, and walk out with pride because Baymax would want _that_ , not _this_ pitiful mess.”

The blonde blinked, shocked out of his sadness. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, air pin drop silent. Then, his face broke out into a smile so stunning that Kasamatsu was actually offended that something so pretty was hidden behind hideous tears. 

“You’re absolutely right,” the guy said, wiping the moisture off his cheeks. He glanced at the name tag on Kasamatsu’s uniform, and then squeezed his hand appreciatively. “Thank you for listening to my troubles, Kasamatsu-san.”

The combination of his name and the warmth in his palm quickly brought Kasamatsu back to the present. He hastily unclasped their joined hands and grimaced, red with embarrassment. “Yeah, sure. No problem. You can, uh, leave now.”

The guy rose from his seat—Kasamatsu felt a twinge of annoyance at their height difference—and nodded, exclaiming, “I’ll be on my way now! Thanks again, Kasamatsu-san.” He turned to leave, and Kasamatsu was just about to ask himself what the _fuck_ happened, until he added, “Oh and by the way, Baymax is a robot, so it doesn’t actually die at the end—it was rebuilt!”

Kasamatsu halted in his thoughts and watched, stunned, as the bundle of energetic blonde skipped down the steps and called out, “My name’s Kise Ryouta, in case you see me here again!”

Unfortunately, Kise escaped before Kasamatsu’s shoe could hit its mark.

+

“Kasamatsu, can you take over my Saturday shift for the next couple months or so?”

“Like hell, find someone else,” rebuffed Kasamatsu, not bothering to spare a glance at his co-worker Moriyama. All his attention was directed to his study notes scattered on the box office counter, taking full advantage of the slow theatre hours.

“Come on, I can’t think of anyone better for the job.” Moriyama leaned over the counter and gripped Kasamatsu’s shoulder. “Determined, hardworking, passionate—you’ve got it all, Kasamatsu.”

Irritation prickling his skin, Kasamatsu pushed Moriyama’s hand off his shoulder. “If that’s your idea of charming me, then I understand why girls never want to date you.”

“Ah, but you see, Kasamatsu,” said Moriyama, leaning low as if to reveal an important secret, “that’s exactly why I need you to cover my shift.”

Kasamatsu lifted his gaze from his notes and stared at Moriyama, unconvinced. “Because of a girl?”

“Yep, her name’s Amaya Maemi-san; she asked me to help her with a film project.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s true, Yukio-kun, and I need my trusty friend to cover for me.” Moriyama straightened, readjusting his navy blue uniform. “Besides, heard you did a good job last time.”

Immediately, Kasamatsu’s mind conjured up an image of blonde hair, golden eyes and a cheeky smile. He scowled involuntarily. “More like a stupid idiot was balling in an empty theatre last night to an animated movie.”

“Is that so?” pondered Moriyama, amused. “To be honest, I feel bad he had to face you of all people. What did you do? Yell at him? Kick his ass? Throw him into the streets?”

The rest of the memory Kasamatsu was suppressing finally surfaced; late night monologues, tender words, and warm hands crystal clear in his memory. He averted his eyes and coughed, uncomfortable. “Just told him to leave. And he did. Nothing special.”

This time it was Moriyama who gave him an unconvinced look. Kasamatsu forced himself to remain still under his gaze.

“I don’t believe you, but if it was bad enough that you’re lying about it—terribly, might I add—then I’ll ask somebody else to take over my shift,” said Moriyama.

Kasamatsu sighed in relief, rubbing his face with a hand. “Thanks Moriyama, hope you find someone.”

+

_didn’t find someone need u to cover my shift pls u’re the best_

Kasamatsu had received the text half an hour before his shift ended, awakening an intense fury and rage within him as he called and confronted Moriyama about the request. He had only conceded, however grudgingly, when Moriyama cried desperately about losing his job and promised it would be the last occurrence.

Now, as Kasamatsu wandered into theatre 4, he was caught up in the sweet, _sweet_ fantasy of kicking Moriyama’s ass. Unfortunately, his preoccupied mind hadn’t picked up the muffled crying noises until he almost tripped over a pile of tissues strewed across the floor.

“What the…?” Startled out of his silent fuming, Kasamatsu’s eyes followed the trail of tissues further up the steps until they settled upon a quivering mass of long limbs and blonde hair.

_“My name’s Kise Ryouta, in case you see me here again!”_

The memory relieved his momentary confusion and brought along a fresh wave of irritation and annoyance. Kasamatsu was not planning on seeing Kise again, but here he was, seeing exactly what he didn’t want to see. He turned to leave because _hell, if he let this guy win_ , but his plans were foiled when he heard a hiccuped, “Kasamatsu-san?”

Bristling, Kasamatsu turned around, fully intent on kicking the crying cataclysm out of the theatre and out of his life for good. Instead, Kasamatsu felt his anger once again fade into uneasiness as his eyes settled on a puffy, red, snot-covered face.

He cursed himself for his incompetence. If only Kasamatsu didn’t have to see him cry, then maybe he would know how to act and then _maybe _he wouldn’t have to be faced with a watery, doe-eyed, expectant look.__

“They worked so hard,” Kise began in a brittle voice. “They didn’t even get to win at the end.”

Kasamatsu held back an irritated groan; he downright refused to have a repeat situation if he had a say in this (which he clearly didn’t). “Alright, Kise, that’s great. Cry about it at home. Please.”

“But there’s no one else who would get it!” cried Kise.

“And how am I supposed to get it?”

“You play basketball, don’t you?”

Kasamatsu blinked, startled. “How do you know that?”

Kise smiled—that dazzling smile that somehow managed to alleviate the damaging effects of his tears. “First—” Kise gestured to Kasamatsu’s feet “—your shoes. Almost had the exact same pair, actually. Second, your hands.” He reached out for Kasamatsu’s palm, but Kasamatsu quickly pulled away, scowling. “They were really callous, so I knew you had to play a sport. Finally,” he giggled, “your monologue. I felt like I was back on the court playing basketball. It was very cute, Kasamatsu-san.”

Heat boiled underneath the surface of Kasamatsu’s skin, both in horrified embarrassment and unadulterated rage. “Alright, time’s up. Leave. _Now_.”

Kise pushed out his lower lip and whined, “But Kasamatsu-san, the movie was so sad—”

“ _Get out_.”

Kise chortled, amused. “Alright, if that’s what you desire.” Kasamatsu’s earlier murderous fantasies returned, but rather than Moriyama, it involved a certain annoying blonde.

Kasamatsu radiated anger as he watched Kise sweep up gracefully and gather his belongings. He then followed him towards the exit, glaring at his back for the entire journey.

Before Kasamatsu could slide the door shut to separate himself and the cause of his recent irritation, said irritation turned and piped up, “You know, Kasamatsu-san, red suits your face, but I think it looks much better embarrassed than angry.”

Kasamatsu slammed the door shut without another word. Moriyama’s ass was definitely getting kicked.

+

“Moriyama, I swear to god if you don’t find a replacement for me before next week, I will _burn_ everything you love,” spat Kasamatsu, punching the buttons of the cash register as if it were the cause of his anger, as if it were Kise himself.

“Whoa, hey,” said Moriyama, lifting a hand defensively as he settled in his usual spot alongside Kasamatsu behind the box office counter. “You haven’t threatened me like that since your angry high school days; bad day last night?”

Kasamatsu scoffed. “Understatement of the year.”

“What did the guy do?” inquired Moriyama as he turned on his own cash register and assisted the first customer.

“ _Everything_ ,” seethed Kasamatsu. The vicious outburst caused the approaching teenage girl to falter, which he quickly apologized for.

Moriyama quirked a thin brow. “Not very helpful.”

After he handed the ticket to the teenage girl (calmly), Kasamatsu growled, “I ask him to leave _politely_ —stop that, Moriyama, I’m not always as angry as you think—and ten minutes later, it somehow always ends up with _him_ getting the last word and _me_ absolutely furious.” He tactfully left out the fact that he always ended up flustered at one point too.

Moriyama laughed as he counted the bills that were handed to him. “This is incredible; I’ve never seen you this worked up before.”

Kasamatsu assaulted him with a glare, metallic blue eyes dripping with venom. “If I have to take over your shift one more time, I _will_ tell your film girlfriend about the time you seductively whispered baloney in Hayakawa’s ear thinking it was that girl you liked.”

Moriyama froze halfway through depositing the cash. “Kasamatsu, you know that was an accident, we had a deal—”

“Get me out of your Saturday shift.”

Moriyama’s face pinched in distress. “But— _please_ , Kasamatsu, no one else is available.”

“Find someone, or your baloney fetish is out.” A plump, elderly woman halted in her approach to the counter, aimed them a disgusted look, and turned away haughtily while muttering something about _“boys and their repulsive minds”_.

Panic seized Moriyama’s expression and he whispered frantically, “Will you quiet down before people get the wrong idea! At this rate, everyone will already know.”

Kasamatsu fixed him with a pointed look, and Moriyama clasped his hands together, expression desperate. “If you do this for me, I’ll get your guitar fixed _free_.”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to see Moriyama vying for the attention of girls. In fact, it was practically an everyday occurrence. But the pleading look in his eyes told Kasamatsu that this was something a bit more serious than usual, and it was an unusual sight.

“I am so serious Kasamatsu, I need your help.”

Kasamatsu rolled his eyes. “All right, _fine_.” He shot him another glare from the corner of his eye. “That guitar better sound brand new when I get it back.”

+

Kasamatsu had already cleaned up his third auditorium and was moving on to his fourth when he concluded—with a surge of relief—that no, Kise was not going to show up.

He figured that the blonde’s escapades were only a diversion from the monotone day-to-day grind, something temporary that had already lost its initial amusement. After all, Kasamatsu wasn’t the most interesting of the bunch, nor the easiest to get along with, and, like always, it had saved him from an undesirable situation.

Dreadful encounter finally put to rest, Kasamatsu allowed himself to relax, sweeping the floor between rows of red seats in a sort of calming routine. The quiet buzz of distant activity was peaceful relative to the bustle of ticket sales, and Kasamatsu found that he almost didn’t mind the job (when loud, obnoxious, sobbing blondes weren’t involved).

He swept up stray trash and popcorn hidden underneath seats, tidying up the last row of theatre 7 before he retired for the night. As he did a final swipe of his broom, the bristles got caught behind a large lump—a blue, black, and white duffle bag.

Kasamatsu lifted his eyes to examine the nearby seats; if there was a large duffle bag that lay abandoned on the floor, their owner must still be in the theatre. His assumption was correct when he caught movement at the end of the row, details hidden by the shadows.

“Oi,” called Kasamatsu as he approached the body, “movie’s over, please leave the auditorium.” He raised a brow as he slowed to a stop a couple metres away, waiting some seconds until he tried again. “Excuse me—”

A few strands of blonde peeked out from behind a hood as the body shifted, and Kasamatsu felt his temper rise immediately. Then a face finally revealed itself and, in an instant, the words died in his throat.

There were no tears this time, no puffy redness, no dripping snot, but a deep, heart-wrenching sadness present in normally bright golden eyes, and Kasamatsu understood that this ran much deeper, much more personal, than a simple movie tear-jerker.

A smile forced its way onto Kise’s face, strained and bitter like it bore the weight of too many hidden thoughts and too many bottled up emotions for a lone individual. “Sorry, Kasamatsu-san, the movie was a sad one tonight.” He unfurled his body from its fetal position, slowly moved to his feet, and gathered his duffel bag. “I’ll be on my way.”

Kasamatsu watched as Kise moved past him without another word.

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

Kise paused on his way down the stairs.

He could have easily let Kise go—gotten him out of his hair for good—but witnessing the normally cheerful blonde slip into a charming façade had somehow unsettled Kasamatsu, like watching a teammate dress his injuries poorly.

“You might think you’re good at a lot of things,” said Kasamatsu, “but you’re a terrible actor.”

Kise let out a mirthless laugh. “Good to know there are some things I don’t need to hide.”

Kasamatsu quirked a brow. “Self-pity isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Finally, Kise turned to face Kasamatsu, sharp eyes glinting coldly, and he asked, “Then what do you suggest I do.”

Kasamatsu held his gaze. “Stop bottling up your emotions. Whatever you’re thinking or feeling isn’t going to disappear with time; it’s only going to get worse, no matter how much you think it’s better to keep it in.” He turned away from Kise’s stunned expression. “All that sadness you’re burying will come back, and it’ll come back ugly and painful and it’s going to hurt—worse than the initial pain, and _definitely_ worse than your dumb movies. Find someone you trust, and talk about it.”

As Kasamatsu walked away, he tried not to dwell on the sincere smile that graced Kise’s face, much more breathtaking and much more real than his scripted picture perfect smiles.

+

It became sort of a routine for them, after that.

Every Saturday evening, Kasamatsu would work an extra few hours, and every week, Kise would be there, sobbing to the newest box-office hit at 12 in the morning in a barren theatre.

It hadn’t occurred to Kasamatsu to question Kise’s presence, too busy compromised by intense wails, bubbly enthusiasm and endless chatter. He just grudgingly accepted that Kise’s presence was something to get used to, unfortunately enough.

Kasamatsu believed it was because he had nothing better to do on Saturday nights that he entertained Kise’s antics. Irritably, at first, then amusedly as their acquaintanceship had progressed into something akin to friendship.

He wasn’t planning for it to happen—even tried to avoid it—but it was a bit difficult to constantly feel contempt towards someone who felt so passionately about things that made them happy. Before Kasamatsu realized it, he too was swept up in Kise’s sweet songs.

(Figuratively, because Kise had a tendency to sing bad pop songs, Kasamatsu learned one week when he caught Kise singing to end credits music.)

The moment Kasamatsu revealed himself, Kise would, without fail, launch into a fifteen minute explanation of the movie and his feelings. Then, Kasamatsu would make a comment, usually along the lines of _“That’s hardly even sad, Kise, stop crying”_ , which would ultimately lead to Kise’s loud whining.

Sometimes, Kasamatsu would find Kise sadder than usual, and he was reminded of that one Saturday night when he had first glimpsed Kise’s darker side. It was during these moments when Kasamatsu wordlessly sat next to Kise and allowed him to lay on his shoulder. It was also during these moments when Kasamatsu truly felt incompetent.

Other times, it was Kasamatsu who was way inexplicably irritated or extremely stressed. Kise never failed to recognize it; immediately wiping his tears away and focusing his energy on cheering Kasamatsu up. He coaxed out much-needed rants and, sometimes, awarded Kasamatsu with a back rub. Kasamatsu always came out of those moments light and content.

But mostly, it was good. They talked, they teased, and they shared stories. There were times when Kasamatsu would go to work on Saturdays with a week of basketball games discuss, and there were others when Kise would whip out his earphones and share some new music that he knew Kasamatsu would enjoy. Two students who had found company in each other, it was as simple as that.

One week, Kasamatsu had finally asked about Kise’s presence. The thought had occurred to him when he noticed a LED sign, flashing _The Lego Movie_ in bright red, directly above the theatre where loud wailing could be heard. It had definitely been time to voice his concerns.

“I like crying after movies, it’s very liberating,” Kise had told him after his sniffling had subsided and he could finally utter a sentence without choking on tears. “Also, I wait until everyone’s gone so they only see my good face and not my crying one.”

“Why? I don’t see a difference.”

“So _mean_ , Kasamatsu-san!”

Kasamatsu accepted the explanation because, honestly, it wasn’t hard to believe considering it was, well, Kise. If there was anybody who didn’t make much sense to Kasamatsu, it was definitely the 6’2” overly friendly puppy (or vicious wolf, depending) with the golden complexion, ugly tears, and way too pretty smiles.

Because nobody else Kasamatsu knew religiously watched animated movies to recall his childhood. Or chose to pursue modelling because his sister had suggested it, but ultimately because _“I don’t know, I was bored”_. Nobody else spoke about his about his friends so obsessively, or added _“cchi”_ to the names of people he respected, or had the ability to perfectly copy basketball moves in a few seconds. And, really, nobody else managed to get on his nerves so quickly.

(Distantly, he also noted that no one else managed to make his heart race so quickly, either, but that was only in embarrassment or anger, of course.)

It was only when Kasamatsu caught himself smiling involuntarily to Kise’s outraged cries did he realize that Kise had become a part of his routine, a splash of colour and excitement that, for the first time, had fallen into his life.

+

“Kise, no.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Kasamatsucchi, pleas— _ow!_ ”

Kasamatsu glared at the annoying blonde who sat in the neighbouring seat, rubbing the back of his head where Kasamatsu had hit him. He wasn’t sure how long they’ve been reclining in the empty theatre, but it’s been long enough that the screen credits have disappeared and so have the tears on Kise’s face. At one point, Kasamatsu might have considered that a success, but now, no tears meant Kise’s past movie explanations and has moved on to more personal territory.

“Mind your own business, Kise,” he snapped. “And don’t call me that.”

Kise pouted. “It’s only your phone, it’s not like you’re hiding anything on it!” He took on a contemplative expression. “Or maybe you are? Do you have a secret relationship? Or maybe naughty photos?”

“ _Idiot_ ,” hissed Kasamatsu, and he whacked Kise again, eliciting a loud yelp followed by pitiful whining. “I’m never giving you my phone now.”

Kise slumped into his seat. “Alright, fine,” he grumbled. “We can do what you want and sit in silence because you’re _boring_.”

Kasamatsu raised a challenging brow. “You’re free to leave.”

“ _No!_ ” blurted Kise, eyes wide and frantic. He quickly sat back in his seat. “I’m staying. I lied; I love sitting in silence.”

“Idiot,” repeated Kasamatsu, rolling his eyes, yet he couldn’t prevent the fondness that swelled in his chest and sliver of satisfaction in subduing Kise, who sometimes had more energy than the Sun itself. He allowed himself to relax into his seat and let his eyes fall shut to savour the moment.

It was these companionable silences at the end of the week that Kasamatsu enjoyed the most. There was trust and understanding that passed between them, where they could both forget about their worries, their struggles, and their life in this little safe space they created. Almost like they were frozen in time, he felt eternal— _they_ felt eternal.

(Even if he knew the next week was their last.)

Kasamatsu peeked open an eye to glance at Kise, whose body was slightly angled away. He seemed to be deep in thought, Kasamatsu noted, with the way his golden eyes were alit with focus, his brows at a slight furrow, and the cute way his nose scrunched up in concentration. His gaze wandered over to Kise’s sun-coloured hair, long enough that his fringe swept his eyelids and nearly brushed the soft curve of his jaw. He also caught the way Kise pulled his lower lip underneath his teeth, and he wondered how soft his lips were, how they would feel against his—

That was Kasamatsu’s last thought before it finally clicked into place. The way his gaze lingered after Kise’s parting figure, the involuntary smiles despite his annoying nature, the way he sometimes felt overwhelmed affection when they interacted; Kasamatsu wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it before. Now, he was _very_ aware of the way his heart was running a mile a minute, like he was going to combust from panic alone, never mind the fact that he was infatuated with _Kise_. Of all the things Kise has done to spike his blood pressure, this was definitely the last thing he expected.

“Hey, Kasamatsu-san, are you alright?”

Kasamatsu felt like a deer caught in headlights as he watched Kise tilt his head in concern. He struggled to find words to say—still a mess from his realization—as he practically felt Kise’s eyes bore holes into his soul. He wondered when he ever let anyone, let alone _Kise_ , have this much power over him, and he cursed his pretty face before he struggled out a weak, “Good. I’m, uh, good.”

The crease between Kise’s brows deepened. “Are you sure? You don’t look okay; maybe you’re catching a fever? I can give you a back rub—”

“ _No_ ,” snapped Kasamatsu. “Sorry—I mean, you do great back rubs—fuck, not the point—” He gritted his teeth. “I’m fine. I’m okay. Just—really hot.”

Kise blinked, confused. Kasamatsu contemplated whether Kise would realize he was escaping if he ran out the theatre right now. “You aren’t acting very much like yourself, Kasamatsu-san.”

“How would you know that? You don’t my life story,” Kasamatsu was quick to reply, yet was unable to muster the usual playful bite in his rebuttals. Instead, he gripped the handles of his seat and averted his eyes, looking anywhere but Kise’s concerned and worried face, too much for him to handle when he himself had no clue what he was feeling.

As his eyes wandered in the hesitant silence, Kasamatsu was becoming more aware that it may just be better to leave, lest he get caught admiring Kise— _again_. The smooth ivory of his skin, the strong curve of his muscles, how it contrasted with his dainty hands, which held—

His phone.

“Kise,” Kasamatsu sliced through the silence. His emotional turmoil settled in an instant, like a storm that cleared for a moment before it reactivated again. “Why do you have my phone in your hands?”

Kasamatsu watched Kise’s worry transform into uneasiness as he, too, became aware of what was happening. “Well, I was bored and you weren’t speaking to me and I knew where you kept your phone, so I thought ‘why not’.” Kise scratched his cheek and laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s not like I did anything bad—played some games, looked through your apps, took a few selfies—”

Kasamatsu’s eyes darkened. “You’re _dead_.”

Later, after a much deserved beating and some drowned out cries for help, Kasamatsu couldn’t prevent the smile that wormed its way onto his face as he discovered a new number on his phone under the name _Kise o((*^▽^*))o Ryouta_.

+

Saying Kasamatsu spent some time thinking about his new found feelings for Kise was an understatement—he spent _a lot_ of time thinking about it, as uncharacteristic as it was.

He insisted on being practical and reasonable, thinking the situation through carefully; whether his feelings were real or not, infatuation or admiration, intense or casual. Once he confirmed that _yes_ , it was very much real, very much an infatuation and very, very intense, he proceeded to spend a lot of time cursing his life, ignoring Kise’s texts, and stressing about his emotions like those lovesick teenagers in the cheesy romantic movies Kasamatsu hated (but Kise somehow loved).

Eventually, the question of _what_ came into the picture. What was he going to do with these feelings? What was he going to do about Kise? And what was he going to do after their last meetup? No matter how he looked at it, however, there were too many unknowns. Would they see each other after next week? Would they remain in contact? Would Kise even want to remain in contact? It was an ocean of uncertainty, but there was one truth that Kasamatsu immediately became familiar with—it would never work out.

It was only when Moriyama announced his newfound relationship with Amaya Maemi that Kasamatsu bothered to consider otherwise.

“How did you of all people manage to get a girlfriend?” asked Kasamatsu, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. They sat at a small round table in the movie theatre lobby, taking full advantage of their shift break.

Moriyama ran a hand through his hair, looking off to the distance in that dramatic fashion of his. “Captured her heart with my killer looks, and then won her over with my personality.”

Kasamatsu gave him a long unimpressed look. “I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re Kasamatsu,” said Moriyama. “I’ve never seen you romantically interested in anyone, ever.”

Any other time, Kasamatsu would have agreed and explained how relationships and romance were too much to be bothered with because it was _true_. Why would he bother holding hands when he could be holding a guitar, or pay attention to a person when he should pay attention to schoolwork, or exchange kisses at home when he could exchange passes on court. He had never been interested in a relationship; it didn’t fit into his routine, didn’t fit into his personality. But as Moriyama told him to his face what he already knew, or what he thought he knew, Kasamatsu couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like with Kise.

Lively basketball scrimmages with meaningful touches, heart rates increasing for reasons other than adrenaline. Lazy guitar sessions ruined by Kise’s terrible pop songs, only made better with sincere smiles. Arguments composed of whining and yelling, but somehow always ended with passionate kisses. Sad (or not so sad) movie dates with too many tears, but with the assurance that there would always be someone else to wipe them away.

And, yeah, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Moriyama?”

Moriyama raised a brow, studying Kasamatsu’s pensive and serious face. “Yeah?”

“How do you tell someone you like them?”

+

Kasamatsu walked into the auditorium Kise was in for the last time, more nervous than he’d been in years.

After the brief, but oddly helpful, conversation with Moriyama (he could always count on Moriyama in the end, despite his silliness), Kasamatsu made the decision to tell Kise how he felt just to get it off his chest.

Now, his heart raced and his throat closed up as he approached Kise’s crying figure, the idea of talking about his feelings a very unfamiliar and, although he didn’t want to admit it, a very terrifying prospect.

“Kasamatsu-san,” strangled out Kise, watery face screwed in pain.

For once, Kasamatsu was thankful for Kise’s hideous crying; he didn’t think he could handle pretty faces and bright smiles at the moment.

Kasamatsu swallowed his fear and asked, “What was it about this time?” When Kise began wiping his nose on his sleeve, Kasamatsu automatically reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of tissues, tossing it towards him.

The tissues stuck to Kise’s snot-covered, tearful face, but he went on, too preoccupied in his own sorrow to notice. “H-He—oh my _god_ —the-they _love_ — _he died_ —o-okay— _okay_ —” His voice cracked at the end and he choked on another wave of tears.

“Wipe your nose before speaking, idiot.” Kasamatsu crinkled his nose in disgust, but his body washed over in relief, and a bit of affection, at the fact that this— _them_ —was still the same, that he really had nothing to worry about.

Kise eventually peeled the tissues off his face, wiped down his tears, and blew his nose. He took a moment to compose himself; closing his eyes and breathing deeply. It was a habit of his, often done when the movie was particularly sad, which, in Kise’s case, meant it was ten times sadder.

Kasamatsu took this opportunity to reminisce their past few months together. The little unpredictable routine they created that had nothing to do with morning coffee, afternoon lectures, and evening box office sales, but everything to do with a blonde sobbing mess in the middle of empty movie theatres.

He then cursed Kise, which he’s been doing since the very beginning, for not only all those times he’s made him speechless, embarrassed, and agitated like no other, but also for turning him into a disgusting sap with romantic feelings.

When Kise finally opened his eyes, there was a flash of determination, and he looked directly at Kasamatsu when he asked, “Do you think love lasts?”

Kasamatsu choked. “What the—Kise, what are you talking about?”

“Well, do you?”

Feeling heat rise to his face, he angled away from Kise’s earnest face and growled, “Is this about your dumb movie?”

He heard an impatient huff in Kise's direction, and he felt his own spike of irritation, but it was mostly smothered by the blood that pulsed in his ears. “Answer the question, Kasamatsu-san.”

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be Kasamatsu in control of the situation, not Kise who demanded to spill his heart when he wasn’t prepared for it. So, heart closing up and brain shutting down, Kasamatsu replied with what he always told everyone else, “I don’t know. I don’t think about it.”

If Kasamatsu wasn’t preoccupied with his panic, he might have noticed the disappointment in Kise’s eyes and the way he whispered, “Why not?”

There were some things Kasamatsu regretted; the missed pass in his second high school basketball Inter-High, the loss in his semi-finals high school Winter Cup, the little time he spent with his brothers—but he never regretted anything more than when he blurted out, “I never really cared.”

Kise stayed silent for a long moment, and something clicked in Kasamatsu’s mind. “Do you…” He hesitated, and then forced himself to go on, “Do you like someone?”

Their gaze interlocked; Kise’s eyes wide in surprise, tinged with a bit of hope. “I do, actually.” 

Kasamatsu wished the darkness of the theatre would swallow him whole, so the bright rays that were Kise would never be able to reach him.

Then, Kise laughed, loud and carefree, and it was like being stabbed in the heart. “I think I make it pretty obvious, but they’re very oblivious when it comes to romance.”

Kasamatsu grunted. “Must be a huge idiot, then.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kise gave him an amused look. “Sure is. They also get pretty violent and angry when they get flustered, did you know that? Like this instinctive reaction—it’s pretty funny, actually.”

Kasamatsu rubbed his face, suddenly drained from a week of emotional buildup and then rejection. He really didn’t want to hear Kise talk about someone he cared about deeply—not now, or ever—and if he had to cut their last—whatever this was—short, then it was for the better. He could forget about it and move on, finally able to return to his much less stressful (but much less exciting) life. “Listen, I have to close up early today.”

Kise blinked, put-off by the sudden change of pace. “O-oh. Okay. Do you want me to walk you—”

“It’s fine. I’m in a hurry.” Kasamatsu turned fully away from Kise. “You should probably leave now, though, or you’ll get locked in.”

There was a pause, and then an exasperated, “ _Kasamatsu-san_ —”

“See you next week, Kise,” interrupted Kasamatsu, heart heavy. He felt bad for not telling Kise that he wouldn’t be here next week, but what other option did he have?

Running away wasn’t exactly the goodbye Kasamatsu was hoping for, but, like he always did with outcomes out of his control, he hardened his heart and prepared to start again.

+

“Mae-chan and I are going on a date today.”

Kasamatsu grimaced as he turned on his cash register. It’s been two weeks since he last saw Kise, and hearing about Moriyama’s budding relationship really wasn’t helping him forget (not that he was very successful any other day of the week, per se). “You’ve already come up with disgustingly cute nicknames for each other?”

Moriyama’s smile was so sweet and affectionate it practically gave Kasamatsu a toothache. “Yeah, it’s great.” There was a faraway look in his eyes as he explained, “She’s so sweet, and really fun to be around. She gets me, you know? And she thinks I’m funny.”

“That’s a first.”

Moriyama was too busy caught up in his thoughts of _‘Mae-chan’_ to notice Kasamatsu’s jab. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a relationship that I forgot that it feels so great.” He absently handed a ticket to a customer. “The support, the talks, the casual kisses, just having someone there—and it’s so much better when it’s with someone you really, really care about, and—” He stopped abruptly and looked to Kasamatsu apologetically. “Sorry, that was inconsiderate.”

Kasamatsu scowled and punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Moriyama. I don’t need your pity, who do you think I am?” He cursed internally; even to his own ears, it sounded defensive.

Rubbing his arm, Moriyama said, “Jeez, you’re always so violent when you’re embarrassed.”

The memory of a couple weeks ago re-emerged from the depths of his mind; Kise admitting to liking someone, and then the explanation that followed afterwards. _“They also get pretty violent and angry when they get flustered, did you know that?”_ Kasamatsu’s eyes widened; it couldn’t have been—

“He is, isn't he?”

Kasamatsu almost had a heart attack when he heard the familiar chirpy voice, which would normally elicit within him an instinctive urge to kick something. But, as his eyes settled on blond hair, golden eyes, and way-too-long eyelashes, it only made his chest ache with longing instead. “What are you doing here, Kise?”

Kise chuckled. “You were never really good a greetings either.”

The teasing remark awakened the combination of irritation and annoyance that always came with interacting with Kise, and before he knew it, Kasamatsu retorted, “It’s a bit hard when you’re in danger of being hit with snot.”

A genuine smile made its way onto Kise’s face, and Kasamatsu felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards as well. This was familiar territory, something they both knew, and, in that two week absence, Kasamatsu never realized how much he missed it.

The moment passed, and a tense silence settled in. There were too many unsaid things to be discussed—too much confusion between them—and Kasamatsu had no idea where to start.

For lack of better things to say, Kasamatsu pointed out the obvious, “You’re sort of, uh, holding up the line.” He gestured to the people accumulating behind him, even if Moriyama was working hard to keep the line moving for his sake.

Kise nodded. “That’s okay. I was going to leave soon anyway.”

Kasamatsu’s heart sank. He then remembered what day it was (Saturday, although he had never seen Kise at the box office before), and felt stupid for even thinking that Kise was here to see him. “Oh. Right.” He shook his head. “Sorry, what movie tickets can I get you?”

“I already have mine.” Kise smiled. “I buy tickets online; I get too impatient waiting.”

Kasamatsu’s brow furrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I came to drop something off.”

“What—”

He never got to finish that question, because a pair of lips pressed against his and it was everything he ever imagined, but _better_. Unlike his fantasies, Kasamatsu could actually feel the tenderness of Kise’s lips, taste the fruitiness of his chap stick, and smell the slight tinge of apple cinnamon as their lips moved over one another. His head spun and his heart rammed against his chest, and he concluded that yeah, maybe this was better than basketball.

As they separated, Kasamatsu was overwhelmed with happiness, felt like he was going to burst. Then, he recognized their surroundings, noticed Moriyama gaping, and the embarrassment rapidly settled in. “Oi, Kise!” he yelled, but fought to keep the smile off his face. “Who said you were allowed to do that in public?”

Kise yelped as Kasamatsu tugged on his ear, but there was a brilliant smile on his face and that was all that mattered. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to do it in private.”

Kasamatsu tensed and gritted his teeth, even more embarrassed if possible. But before he could throw a punch, Kise was already backing away, laughing. “See you later tonight, Kasamatsu-san!”

Kasamatsu lowered his fist, frowning in confusion. “But I’m not working Saturday evenings anymore.”

“Well, I hope you aren’t,” Kise called out, pointing to the counter where, Kasamatsu noticed for the first time, a movie ticket was slipped in front of him, “or else I would have wasted money on a perfectly good movie!”

With that, Kise turned away completely, and Kasamatsu watched and continued watching until Kise was out of the theatre and out of sight.

Moriyama whistled. “That was one hell of a confession.” He slapped Kasamatsu’s back amicably. “Yukio-kun’s all grown up.”

“Shut up, Moriyama, and get back to work.”

It wasn’t that Kasamatsu didn’t know how to manage situations; there were just two things he wasn’t quite good at handling. The first was talking to girls, and the second was comforting people. But there was one thing that he never did learn how to deal with, and that was Kise Ryouta.

But as Kasamatsu looked down at his ticket, the words _Big Hero 6 Theatre 11_ printed in block letters, he thought that was also the one thing he was willing to put up with.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I finished in years and it's about gay sports lmao. Except I thought it would be haikyuu!!, but it ended up being knb because the only thing I think about now is kikasa gdi. Not sure if I'll write for them any time soon, though, but I'm definitely planning a bunch of haikyuu!! fics so watch out for that.
> 
> Also, this is work is inspired from this post on [tumblr.](http://rizzuwizzu.tumblr.com/post/104852796036/consider-the-i-work-at-a-movie-theatre-and-im)
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it! I love writing about Kasamatsu, he's my favourite, and it was definitely a challenge writing him with romantic feelings because, you know, it's Kasamatsu, but I hope it's believable enough. Also, if you couldn't tell, I love close friendships, so we get a bit of Moriyama and Kasamatsu broship going on, and Moriyama finally gets the girl. And finally, Kise as an ugly crier because, otherwise, what's the point?
> 
> (I popped in some a few kikasa refs in there, and I'll be very satisfied if you found them.)
> 
> If you have any constructive criticsm, please tell me, I would really appreciate it! :)


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